


Dragon Ball Super: Secret of the Saiyans

by TeamUnitedNerds



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: F/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2018-12-13 18:46:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11766087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamUnitedNerds/pseuds/TeamUnitedNerds
Summary: Dragon Ball Super: Secret of the Saiyans follows Cabba and his rivalry with the villainous Saiyan scientist Zeleri.





	1. Chapter 1

Zeleri saw his ascension to power as a sort of inevitability. He was born a weak, low-class Saiyan boy. Even back then, he knew he was brilliant, and that his brilliance would carry him to greatness. There was never any doubt in his mind, and all of his choices were simply a series of logical, pragmatic steps towards his eventual goal.

He studied biology at the best school his parents could afford to send him to. Even the most advanced classes that they provided proved unchallenging to the young prodigy, and he passed all of them with unprecedented grades.

As a result, some of the most prestigious colleges on Planet Sadla offered him scholarships. He accepted and proved once again to be an exceptional student.

He was temporarily drafted into the Sadla Defense Force, where he served as a combat medic for half a decade.

Then, he worked in a lab for several years, studying Saiyan genetics. He took a particular interest in Saiyan evolution, although he found that there was a rather large gap in his species evolutionary history that he simply could not account for. Still, he made several large breakthroughs in the field of genetics, which granted him his final promotion.

Zeleri was invited to be the Saiyan King’s chief doctor, his most trusted advisor on all medical matters, and personal doctor to the King, his family, and other high-class Saiyans. Zeleri was pleased, but he wasn’t surprised. He had earned this. It was where he belonged.

Zeleri was a tall Saiyan, fairly thin, but fit and middle-aged. His face was narrow and his hair was long, tied back in a ponytail. He wore a long black robe covered by a suit of standard Battle Armor.

“This is a routine medical procedure,” Zeleri said. Cabba nodded absentmindedly. “I don’t expect to find anything wrong with you, but since you’ve apparently been exposed to beings from another universe, I’m obligated to check you for diseases. Please, stick out your arm.”

Cabba did as instructed. His body felt strangely light. It’d been almost a day since the tournament, and yet, his body hadn’t adjusted to peacetime. He still felt the hot rush of combat surging through him.

Zeleri thrust a syringe into his arm, drawing blood and removing it before Cabba could even register the negligible pain.

“I’ll have this taken to the lab, but I don’t expect anything to come of it.”

Zeleri scratched something down on his clipboard.

“Now, have you been experiencing any symptoms during or after the tournament? Anything that wouldn’t be the result of combat, I mean.”

Cabba shook his head. Zeleri made another note.

“Now, did you sustain any injuries during combat?”

Cabba removed his Battle Armor, and then his undershirt. His entire torso was covered in burns, bruises, and cuts. He felt an unusual sense of pride as Zeleri examined his wounds. Yet, at the same time, he felt ashamed. He always thought he was strong enough, and in the past, he always had been. His power had allowed him to save the innocent and protect his planet, and once, that had been satisfactory. But after he saw Vegeta, he realized how much farther he should’ve pushed himself.

“Your injuries may look fairly severe, but they’re superficial for the most part, and all treatable.”

Zeleri bandaged over Cabba’s entire chest, to prevent any further bleeding or infection.

“They’ll go away within a few weeks. If they worsen, notify me immediately. Now, any psychological symptoms?”

“No.”

Zeleri wrote another note on his pad.

“I don’t expect you to understand how exhilarating the news of a neighboring universe is to a scientist like me. You said in your report that you encountered Saiyans from another universe? I’d like to hear more about them, if you don’t mind indulging me. Your report was devoid of specifics.”

“Sure,” Cabba said, redressing himself. “They were pretty similar to the Saiyans here. The only difference is that they were way stronger than anyone I’ve ever seen.”

“Hm, alright,” Zeleri said. “Did you notice any anatomical or psychological differences? Even cultural differences are relevant to my research.”

“They seemed pretty…” Cabba took a moment to gather his words. “They seemed to really enjoy fighting. And...they said something about tails. One of them asked why I didn’t have one.”

Zeleri tapped his pen against his clipboard.

“So you’re saying they had tails?” Cabba shook his head. “No, or at least, I didn’t see them. But he seemed surprised that I didn’t have one.”

“Is that all?”

“I think so.”

“This will require further study, but I appreciate the information that you’ve given me. If you encounter these alternate Saiyans again, I humbly request that you use that opportunity to gather more information for my research.”

“I’ll try,” Cabba said, although he was certain that he’d have other priorities if he encountered Vegeta again.

“Well, actually, there was something else about them, something that isn’t on the record.”

“Hm?”

“They had the power to transform, and increase their power.”

“Can you tell me about their transformations?”

“I can do more than that, I can show you.”

Cabba’s upper back buzzed with a hot, tingling sensation, like sparks erupting just underneath his skin. His hair turned gold, and floated as if he was underwater, and his entire body radiated with a golden aura. Zeleri could feel his power, simply by standing near him.

“In that case, I’d like to keep you here for further questioning.”

“Point out any errors if you hear them,” Zeleri said, going over his notes. “This form is referred to as ‘Super Saiyan.’ You achieved this transformation through intense anger, causing your power to multiply. However, after using the form once, you are now able to trigger it at will, without the need for an emotional trigger. Is that all correct?”

“Mhm,” Cabba said. “I just sort of...concentrate all my energy into my upper back.”

“Well, I know I’ve already kept you long enough, but I’d like to perform one last test.”

Cabba was placed inside a large metal cylinder with a small window, the only thing keeping him from being in complete darkness. Zeleri had taken him from the medical exam room to his laboratory. His laboratory was a cold, sterile, featureless room, with dozens of machines of unknown function.

“This machine will monitor and record your energy as you transform,” Zeleri said, his voice audible, even through the thick layer of metal that stood between them.

“Start by powering up normally, without transforming, so we can establish a baseline.”

Cabba tightened his muscles, concentrating his energy and flooding himself with power. A hazy white aura built up around his body, that quickly solidified into a pale burning presence. His machine buzzed and hummed as it spat out a paper containing the relevant data.

“Alright, now, transform.” Zeleri said.

Cabba’s body surged with golden light. The machine buckled and hissed, producing a slip of paper before overheating and shutting down. The numbers were staggering, the energy Cabba produced was comparable to that of a supernova. Zeleri checked the data several times, to make sure that he was seeing correctly. These numbers couldn’t possibly be right, and yet, nothing less like that could cause his machine to break.

“Sorry,” Cabba said, as he returned to his base form and stumbled out of the steaming chamber.

“Oh, no, it’s alright. I was using an old model, it was bound to break eventually. This is an ideal excuse for me to upgrade.”

“Alright, thanks,” Cabba said. “Do you have all the information you need?”

Zeleri nodded. “I have more than enough."


	2. Chapter 2

Yarrow blinked, as reality came together in front of him, taking the place of the gray haze that previously comprised his vision.

The room was sickeningly bright, and large. The walls were strewn with monitors, and the ceilings were covered in the lights responsible for the aforementioned brightness. The walls were metal, and thick, probably soundproofed too. There was a metal door at the far end of the room, sealed tight, without so much as a porthole to look though. The entire room was devoid of windows, in fact, or any visible means of escape. There was a table pushed up against the wall, with a metal tray, containing a row of assorted medical instruments. And standing in the middle of the bright light was a slender Saiyan man.

Yarrow squirmed. He thrust his torso in the air, but his limbs remained in place, as they were strapped tight to a metal operating table with seemingly unbreakable bonds. He shouldn’t have allowed himself to get into his vulnerable position. He was a soldier of the Sadla Defense Force, he should’ve seen this coming, he should’ve defended himself. 

“Where am I?” he said. His voice was gruff, but uneasy, as if he had partially forgotten how to speak.

“Well, since there’s no chance of you escaping,” Zeleri said, putting on a pair of surgical gloves. His voice was icy and dull, eerily devoid of emotion, almost uninterested. “I suppose I owe you an honest answer. You’re on a facility in a remote part of space, far away from Planet Sadla. I paid a group of space pirates to build it several years ago. Do you have any other questions?”

 

“Yeah, go to hell,” Yarrow spat back. 

“That’s not a question,” Zeleri said, activating several monitors with the flip of a switch. They let out a dull hum and displayed a series of charts and numbers that were utterly meaningless to Yarrow.

“I’ll do you a favor and answer the question you should’ve asked, ‘Why am I here?’ You’re here because you are strong, and vulnerable. You were an ideal captive, and an ideal test subject.”

“Test subject? What the hell are you talking about?”

Zeleri approached Yarrow, leaning over him. Yarrow’s nostrils burned, as Zeleri smelled strongly of antiseptic. 

“Do the words ‘Super Saiyan’ mean anything to you?”

“Maybe they do,” Yarrow said. “Why the hell should I tell you?”

“Because,” Zeleri said. “It’s in your best interest to be compliant. I’ve already proven that I’m willing to kidnap you, so it’s safe to assume that I’m willing to do anything to achieve my goals. And you’re strapped to an operating table, alone with an amoral doctor. You don’t strike me as the creative type, but surely you’ve already imagined some of the punishments I could inflict on you. Now, you have one more chance to answer.”

“Fine. No, I’ve never heard of a ‘Super Saiyan’ in my life.”

“Of course,” Zeleri said, lifting a syngene off of a nearby table. He examined it in the light, turning it over in his hand, before placing it back down. 

“Now, here’s the important question: are you afraid? Are you angry? You’re part of the Defense Force, it’s your duty to defeat and arrest dangerous criminals like me. So why don’t you? I’m clearly a threat, use your righteous anger. Break free. Fight me. Defeat me. Bring me to justice.”

His invitation made Yarrow shiver, but he was right. Whatever Zeleri had in mind, he couldn’t let this stand. He gritted his teeth, and allowed all his power to flow into his body. An electric current surged through him, as a hazy red aura formed over his skin.

His mind was focused, and his purpose was clear. He pushed against the shackles with all of his might.

He succeeded in rattling them, but his bonds held, and the Saiyan remained in place. The hopelessness hit him immediately, forcing all of the energy out of his body like a deflating balloon. 

“Is that all you have?” Zeleri said angrily. “Well, fine. I can still find other uses for you.”

Zeleri picked the syringe back up from the table. Without a word or a moment’s hesitation, he shoved the needle into Yarrow’s arm. 

Yarrow’s veins were filled with acid, and his mind was full of fire. The room faded into red around him. 

\----

“All I’m saying is,” Archo the Space Patroller said in his nasally voice. “This is what happens when you don’t ask for directions.”

“I told you, I know where I’m going,” Danio the Space Patroller replied, gripping his tiny hands tightly around the steering wheel of their spaceship. “I’m just taking a shortcut.”

“Yeah, you said the same thing at the last asteroid belt we got lost in...and the one before that...and the one before…”

“Hey, what’s that?” Danio said, leaning forward, pressing his face against the glass of their ship to get a better look. Archo did the same. They squinted, fixating their gazes on a particular asteroid, which seemed to have a small facility built on top of it.

“I dunno, looks like some kind of base or something,” Archo said. “Maybe an abandoned space station or mining facility. It’s probably nothing.”

“Ooooooor, it might be something,” Danio said. “We’re already gonna get chewed out for being late, so we might as well do some good on the way. Maybe our boss will give us a break if we stop an intergalactic criminal in the meantime.”

“Or, we might waste even more time and get demoted,” Archo sneered. 

“Well, I’m the one driving the ship, and I say we check it out.”

“Fine,” Archo said, crossing his arms and huffing. 

The Space Patrollers parked their ship on the asteroid. The walls of Zeleri’s temporary lab were thick, but not entirely soundproof, and the unmistakable noise of a spaceship made him shudder. He was in one of the most remote regions of space, how could anyone find him here?

He took a deep breath, and collected himself. It couldn’t be the Sadala Defense Force. The ship probably belonged to a pirate, or some lost space tourists. He would simply tell them that they had no business here, and they would leave, and he would be alone to continue his work.

The Space Patrollers knocked on the heavy metal door to the facility. Zeleri took a deep breath, and checked himself in the mirror, to make sure that his skin and armor were clear of any blood or other bodily fluids. Once he was satisfied with his appearance, he opened the door, and let them in. 

The Space Patrollers were diminutive, and clearly belonged to the same species. Perhaps they were even related. They were humanoid, and hairless, with round, black eyes and teal skin. One had a red uniform, while the other’s was cyan. 

“Welcome,” Zeleri said unnaturally. “I assume you’re both members of the Peace Force?”

They looked at each other briefly, before silently agreeing to make their introduction. 

“I’m Archo, and he’s Danio,” the patroller in the red uniform said. “And the Peace Force doesn’t exist anymore, ever since Frost was revealed to be a criminal. Now, we’re remembers of the newly reformed and rebranded Galactic Patrol.”

Archo and Danio flashed their badges with impressive synchronization. Clearly, they’d rehearsed this before.

“Of course,” Zeleri said. “And what brings you two here, exactly?”

“Well, we were just coming back from a super important mission,” Danio said, as Archo took a look around the room. 

“And we happened to run into your facility. You’re planet Sadala’s chief, uh, medicine guy, right?”

“Well, that’s not my official title, but yes.”

“Right. Well, what’s a guy like you doing with a facility this deep into unmonitored space?”

Zeleri had already prepared his alibi, just in case he ever found himself in a situation like this. 

“Well, there’s a particular mineral that is extremely vital to my current line of study, and this asteroid belt is the only place in the galaxy that provides it. It was much easier to simply set up a lab here, instead of constantly bringing the materials back and forth to Planet Sadala.”

“Right, makes sense,” Danio said. “Still, I hope you don’t mind if we take a look around, just to be safe.”

“Feel free, although, I assure you, you’re wasting your time.”

“I guess we’ll see about that. Hey, Archo, did you find anything?”

“Well, I did find this,” Archo said, gesturing to the reinforced steel door at the end of the room. 

“What’s in there, huh?” Danio said, standing on the tips of his toes so he could prod Zeleri in the chest. He felt like a real, rough enforcer of the law in that moment, it was great. Meanwhile, Archo struggled to open the latch on the door, grunting with embellished exhaustion as sweat poured down his face. 

“That is a clean room,” Zeleri said. “I’m currently helping a patient with an extremely infectious disease, and opening the door risks contamination to both the patient and any outsiders as well. Nobody can enter without the proper equipment.”

“Well, it just so happens that the standard Galactic Patrol Uniform comes with built-in environmental protection and is completely sterile,” Danio said, pounding his fist proudly against his chest plate. 

Zeleri sighed, as Archo finally managed to unlatch the door. 

“Fine, but you’ll be entirely responsible for anything that happens.”

“I’m sure we’ll be fine,” Archo said, opening the door with a dramatic creak.   
Yarrow burst through the door, lifting the tiny Space Patroller above his head before hurling him against the wall with a guttural roar. The Saiyan was almost unrecognizable. His skin was rough, and his thick, bloated muscles were stretched unnaturally over his asymmetrical frame. 

Archo hit the wall with a thud, leaving an Archo-shaped indent in the reinforced metal. 

“I tried to warn you,” Zeleri said. 

“See! I told you there would be crimes to thwart here!” Danio said, pulling out his blaster. Archo let out a feeble but congratulatory moan in reply.

Danio fired his blaster at the raging Saiyan. The blast hit, and cut directly through the Saiyan’s shoulder, but it only seemed to irritate him. 

Yarrow turned to Danio, and before he could reload his blaster, he reached his hand into Danio’s chest, and pulled out a still-beating organ that dripped with his blueish blood. 

“Ha, nice try!” Danio said. “But my species has two hearts! I can survive with one no problem!”

Yarrow clawed out Danio’s second heart, holding it inelegantly in his grip. But the Space Patroller was still standing. 

“Stupid oaf! My species actually has three hearts!”

Once again, Yarrow tore out the Space Patroller’s organ, and once again, it seems to have no effect on him. 

“Ha! I can’t believe how gullible you are! That’s actually a vestigial organ! By ripping them out, you’ve reduced my chance of infection and cancer by 30%! All you’ve done is saved me money on potentially expensive and painful surgery!”

Yarrow tore off the Space Patroller’s head and hurled it to the side. This time, the injury seemed to have an effect on him, as his headless corpse fell limply to the ground with a comical squish.

Yarrow turned to the other Patroller, who was picking himself up off the ground, still shook from the impact. 

“Stand down. I’ll take this one. It’s been awhile since I’ve fought. I want to see how much of my power I’ve retained.”

“Wait!” Archo said, legs wobbling as he finally pushed himself back to his feet. “My name is Archo, I’m a member of the Space Patrol. I’m trying to learn how to play the harmonica. I like women who are taller than me, which is basically all of them, and I…”

“What are you doing?” Zeleri said, tilting his head. 

“Oh, well, at the academy they taught us that, if someone’s about to kill you, you tell them your name and talk about yourself so they have to acknowledge your personhood. Then it becomes harder for them to kill you.”

“Oh, is that so? Do you really think that’ll work?”

Archo shrugged. Zeleri held out his hand, and incinerated him in a single yellow ki blast.

Before his sudden incineration, Archo managed to send out a distress signal. The distress signal traveled throughout the universe, before finally reaching Planet Sadala. 

“Hey, Cabba, think you could take this one?” Shinach said, as his wristwatch buzzed and buzzed with the dull, repetitive sound of the distress signal. “I’ve got a date with a special someone tonight, and I don’t wanna keep him waiting.”

“Sure,” Cabba said. “Where’s the signal coming from?”

Shinach shrugged. “It’s just a generic distress signal, but it was sent by the Galactic Patrol from some asteroid belt out in deep space. One of them probably just smashed their ship into something.”

“Right,” Cabba said. He made sure that he had all of the necessary equipment with him, as he did before any mission. His Saiyan armor was on correctly, he had the keys to his ship, and a repair kit strapped to his back for the presumably damaged Space Patrol ship he would find there.

“Alright, see ya,” Shinach said. “And if you do anything cool while you’re out there, you’re fine with me telling my boyfriend that I did it, right?”

Cabba nodded with sincerity. 

“Alright, good luck out there.”

\----

Cabba’s ship arrived at the asteroid belt. It was littered with the rusted remnants of shattered ships, but none of them seemed to belong to the Galactic Patrol. And the distress signal hadn’t come from any of them either.

Cabba switched his ship to manual piloting, as he maneuvered nimbly through the perilous asteroids, closer to the signal’s origin point.

As Cabba drew closer, the signal’s source became clear. There was a Galactic Patrol vehicle, parked right outside of a small facility built on top of one of the asteroids. 

Cabba parked his ship next to the other, and exited it, after slipping an oxygen mask over his face. He left the repair kit in the ship, and in its place, he took a pair of handcuffs, just in case. 

Cabba walked up to the great metal door of the facility, which was about twice Cabba’s height, and knocked on it gently. 

Cabba was slightly perplexed when Zeleri opened the door. Cabba quickly weaved together a narrative in his head that explained everything, however. Obviously, the Galactic Patrol troopers were injured, and Zeleri was helping them recover. What else could possibly be going on?

“Greetings,” Zeleri said. “It’s quite a coincidence that we’d end up interacting again.”

Cabba nodded in agreement, as he looked around the room. It was overwhelmingly large, and filled with the bitter scent of fresh cleaning fluid.

“I assume you’re here because of those Galactic Patrollers?” Zeleri asked. 

“Yeah,” Cabba replied. “Have you seen them?”

 

Zeleri sighed. “Well, I could try lying to you, but you’re certain to find out either way, so I might as well tell you the truth. I killed those Patrollers hours ago. I just barely managed to clean up their bodies before you arrived.”

Cabba looked into his eyes, to see if he was joking, but there was no hint of humor on his face. 

“Since I’m being honest, it wouldn’t be accurate to say that I killed them. I killed one of them, sure, but I had some help with the other one.”

As if on cue, Yarrow burst through the back door of the laboratory. It took Cabba a moment to recognize the face of his former comrade in the mutant’s twisted visage, but when he did, he was appalled. A creeping, empty feeling of revulsion filled his stomach. The dread was so sudden and overwhelming that he barely managed to dodge the arc of Yarrow’s swinging fist. 

“Yarrow was an unfortunate casualty,” Zeleri said, as Cabba stepped out of the way of another of Yarrow’s blows. “He didn’t show the same exceptional talent as you, but I couldn‘t simply let him go, so I needed to repurpose him.”

Yarrow roared. This time, Cabba failed to avoid his attack in time, as Yarrow’s fist smashed into his face, sending him flying across the room. He got back up almost instantaneously, and despite the tremendous force behind the blow, it left only a small scratch. Cabba retaliated, firing a small yellow orb of ki into the mutant’s face. It left a visible burn, but it did little to deter the monster, as it lumbered towards Cabba, arms wound back as he prepared for another punch.

“Interesting,” Zeleri said, pulling up a chair. He was free to play the role of the observer, since Cabba was so preoccupied with his raging mutant servant. 

“You haven’t transformed yet. Are you trying to conserve your stamina? Or, perhaps, you’re concerned about hurting your former friend. Unfortunately, you can’t get out of this without killing him. Yarrow’s condition is irreversible. He never gets tired, he feels no pain, and he cannot be rendered unconscious. So, you have a choice: kill him, or die.”

Cabba winced, the creature’s fist collided with his torso, knocking the wind out of him. 

“Come on! Fight! You’re a warrior, aren’t you?” Zeleri said, as he disinterestedly twirled a scalpel between his fingers. 

Yarrow continued to chase Cabba around the room, slashing, clawing, and striking at Cabba clumsily. His blows were unrefined, but also unpredictable, making them difficult to dodge. And Cabba’s occasional weak ki blast did almost nothing to deter him.

Zeleri was right. He needed to do something, or he’d end up exhausting himself, and dying at the creature’s hands. 

“I’m sorry,” Cabba said, looking deep into his friend’s eyes. The fact that there was no remnant of his comrade's former self in his eyes sickened him, but it also made his next action much easier. 

Cabba jumped into the air, and placed his palm right in front of the creature’s face. He fired a short, powerful, but highly condensed ki blast directly into his eyes. 

Even if he couldn’t feel pain, as Zeleri had said, the blindness caused by Cabba’s attack was enough to disorient him momentarily, as he felt clumsily around the room to get a sense of direction. 

Cabba dove between the monster’s legs, an easy feat, given Cabba’s size. Then, after taking a deep breath to steel himself, he transformed. 

Cabba’s slender body was surrounded by a shining aura as his hair stood up and became golden. The sheer power of his transformation caused the air to swirl around him. Various papers and loose items were scattered about the room, but Zeleri seemed unperturbed. 

Yarrow was still confused and directionless, and Cabba was still behind him. Now, in his powered-up state, Cabba punched Yarrow hard in the back, pushing him forward onto his knees. Cabba took out the handcuffs quickly. Fortunately, the standard-issue Sadala Defense Force handcuffs were extremely advanced, and could expand or contract to fit a wrist of any size. 

The cuffs expanded around Yarrow’s bulky wrists, and then linked themselves together with a thin but durable string of energy. Then, Cabba took out a second pair of cuffs, and used them to bind Yarrow’s legs. He thrashed and screamed on the cold metal floor, but the bonds remained unbroken, and he was left incapacitated. 

Then, he turned to Zeleri. He didn’t know what had caused the doctor to do this, and he didn’t care. 

Zeleri rose from his seat, and got into a combat stance reluctantly. 

“You may be a soldier, and I a doctor,” Zeleri said. “But it would be unwise to underestimate me. I served in the Sadala Defense Force too, and I’ve kept my body in near-perfect condition through diet, routine, and rigorous exercise. Even with your transformation, a rookie like you…”

Zeleri’s sentence was interrupted by a sudden, cracking uppercut from Cabba that hit him perfectly in the cheek. He soared across the room, as a small stream of blood and spittle erupted violently from his mouth. 

Cabba returned to his base form, as the sudden rush of energy and adrenaline left his body.

“I’m going to need some assistance,” Cabba said, opening a line of communication with Planet Sadala. 

“And, uh, contact Yarrow’s family.” 

In the meantime, Cabba returned to his spaceship. He took a deep breath, leaned back in his chair, and let himself collapse. He could still hear Yarrow’s feral wails, even inside of his ship.


	3. Chapter 3

The trial was predictably formal, presided over by Amaranth, one of Sadla’s oldest and most respected judges. The aged Saiyan began to speak through a tangle of white beard hair.

“Zeleri, you have been charged with two counts of murder, one count of attempted murder, one count of kidnapping, and…”

Amaranth paused, as there was no formal legal term for forcibly mutating another Saiyan.

“And various other crimes. How do you plead?”

“Guilty on all counts,” Zeleri said calmly. “And, while I’m being honest, I might as well confess all of my other crimes as well. I believe you should add some charges of embezzlement, assault, and misuse of medical equipment. I’m not a legal expert, but I assume that adds to a sentence of life imprisonment, yes?”

Amaranth nodded solemnly. His disgust for the casual way Zeleri admitted to his crimes was palpable. “You are sentenced to life in prison without parole.”

The attendants at the trial were satisfied with the swiftness and severity of the justice, particular Yarrow.

Yarrow had returned to his former self, as Zeleri had greatly exaggerated the permanence of his transformation. The damage from Cabba’s blast still remained, however. His charred, non-functional eyes were concealed by a blindfold that only partially hid his burns.

Zeleri was escorted out of the courtroom, his arms behind his back, the blue glow of the energy-suppressing handcuffs against his black tunic.

He was brought into a docking bay. The ship hummed eagerly, as the pilot was ready to put Zeleri in prison so he could get on with his day. Zeleri was shoved through the ship’s door without much regard for his safety.

“Stop,” The Saiyan King said.

The two guards immediately turned around and bowed towards their monarch.

“Zeleri, it doesn’t need to be like this,” he said. “I can have you transferred to a better facility. I can even commute your sentence, as long as you…”

Zeleri chuckled. His laughter was strained, as he didn’t do it very often.

“You’re an intelligent man, Lord Sadla. Surely you must know that being merciful to a criminal as depraved as me would be politically unpopular.”

“I don’t care about the political consequences. You’ve been a loyal friend of mine for years. You deserve an opportunity to redeem yourself.”

“You can give me the opportunity,” Zeleri said. “But let me tell you this. Any bit of mercy you show me, any punishment you withhold, I will take advantage of. If you let me leave prison as a free man, no matter how old I am, I’ll pick up right where I left off.”

“Surely you don’t mean that.”

“I know I’ve proven myself to be dishonest, but you can take my word on that.”

“If that is what you wish, then fine.”

“Goodbye, old friend.”

The doors on the spaceship slid closed, as Zeleri politely seated himself. Restraints snapped themselves around his legs, to keep him in place as the ship took off.

Lord Sadla sighed. “What a waste.”

“Enjoy your new home, asshole.” the guard said, as he shoved Zeleri into his cell, shutting the door loudly behind him. Zeleri stumbled to the ground, falling on his side, with his head worryingly close to the hole in the floor that would serve as his toilet for the foreseeable future.

Zeleri managed to wriggled away from the vile, no doubt germ-filled hole. Then, he worked his way back to his feet, not an easy task without the use of his hands.

Only after he was finally upright did his handcuffs deactivate, falling to the floor with a clunk. The room was still bathed in a blue light, providing the same energy-dampening effects as his cuffs.

He looked around with a curious eye, to get a sense of his surroundings. There wasn’t much to take in; the room was plain, windowless, and extremely small. There was the aforementioned toilet, in one corner of the room, and on another, a sagging, worn-out mattress for him to sleep on.

Then, he looked up. There was a security camera, scanning the whole room with a wide, sweeping motion. Zeleri waited for the camera’s lens to aim itself at him, before flashing his friendliest smile.

“I hope you’re doing well in there,” Zeleri said to the Saiyan who was no doubt watching him from the other side of the camera. “It certainly can’t be worse than in here.”

Zeleri paced back and forth, trying to occupy the idle hours with thought. Eventually, something changed. A tray, along with several small bowls, were slipped underneath his cell. The food was too good for prison, he could tell just by the smell. The tray contained a generous portion of well-cooked meat, with the bowls containing white rice and vegetable soup, respectively.

Finally, a book was slipped underneath the door, before the guards footsteps against the hard concrete indicated that he had left.

The tome was thick, and the cover read ‘Planet Sadla Encyclopedia of Medicine: Age 779 Edition’.

Zeleri turned over to the first page. There was a message there, in large, dignified letters.

So you don’t get bored

-Lord Sadla

Zeleri smiled. He knew the king would find some way to show him generosity.

Zeleri finished off his meal swiftly, and left the tray by the door. After a few minutes, he could hear a second set of footprints approaching. These were different to the footfalls of the guard who gave him his meal. They were heavier, more determined. And behind them was another individual, with a lighter, more hesitant step.

The door swung open roughly, smashing against the side of the wall with an unappealing crash.

Two men entered the room. One was Yarrow, and the other, a smaller man, in a prison guard’s uniform.

Zeleri turned his attention towards the security camera, which drooped as it deactivated with a subtle hum.

“You have 10 minutes,” the guard said. “Medical care comes out of our budget, so don’t do any permanent damage. And it goes without saying, but try not to kill him.”

“I’m a soldier,” Yarrow said. “I know what I’m doing.”

The guard nodded, and left the room. “See you in 10.”

Yarrow wasted no time, smashing his fist into Zeleri’s face, a brutal blow that sent him flying across the room. A narrow stream of blood trickled from Zeleri’s nose, down onto his torso, staining his armor.

Zeleri had no time to prepare himself as Yarrow’s fist rocketed into his chest. The pain was overwhelming, but he focused on keeping his mind together. Yarrow’s precision was admirable, each strike was perfectly placed to cause the maximum amount of pain with the least amount of lasting physical damage. Yarrow was a member of the noble Sadla Defense Force, and yet, by the way he fought, he was clearly no stranger to cruelty.

Zeleri’s vision was blurred. His thoughts were scrambled, incomplete. For a few precious seconds, as Yarrow struck him again, he was detached completely from his precious intelligence. He had lost all sense of location as he stared helplessly into the swirling mess in front of him.

He had lost count of how many times Yarrow had hit him. Pain surged through his body at regular intervals. It was impossible to distinguish if it was from an actual strike, or merely the residual effects of one.

Eventually, it stopped. Zeleri was still in pain, his body twitching, near-blind from shock.

Yarrow removed his blindfold, and used it to wipe the blood from his fists.

“I might’ve broken a few bones by accident, but it’s nothing you can’t fix yourself, doctor. I’ll see you next week.”

Zeleri stumbled to his feet, swaying back and forth like a drunk, dripping blood onto the concrete.

A steady stream of pain danced throughout his whole body, but there was a particular sting in his jaw. It had been dislocated.

He had to get it back into place, but there was only one way to do it that was available to him, and it would hurt.

He had to do it as soon as possible though. His entire body was still in agony, so hopefully that would help dilute the pain he was about to experience.

He slammed his lower jaw against the wall as hard as he could. It clicked back into place with the ugliest sound Zeleri had ever heard. His theory about pain dilution was proven incorrect, as he let out a shrieking wail of pain from his no-longer-dislocated mouth.

The security camera resumed its sweep. Hot, stinging tears fell from Zeleri’s eyes, landing in the pooling puddle of blood beneath him.

Zeleri knew that his tears were just a natural, biological reaction to pain. And yet, he felt humiliated all the same, and that stung more than the pulsating bruises all along his face and body.

But that didn’t matter. All this pain was in service of a greater goal. He would have his revenge, and more. There would be no ambiguity about it. His rise to power was inevitable, as it had always been.

“All I’m saying is, I don’t see why a guy like you has to go on these kinds of missions with a guy like me,” Callion said. Callion was a rotund Saiyan with a young face, who was always quick to claim that his girth was concealing layers of finely-honed muscle. He always had an aura of affability, though, he was the sort of guy who got along with everyone, and could insert himself into any group or conversation without much resistance.

“Don’t put yourself down like that,” Cabba said, as he walked alongside him. They were in one of the seedier parts of Planet Sadla, where gangs were the dominant force. Fortunately, they tended to be non-violent, sticking mostly to pick-pocketing and theft rather than murder. And the call that Cabba and Callion were sent to investigate was more likely to be the former than the latter.

“I’m not,” Callion said. “I mean, I know I’m pretty cool, but you got to fight alongside Hit! And you put that crazy scientist guy in jail. That should get you out of patrol duty, right?”

“I’m just happy to help in any way I can,” Cabba replied without the slightest hint of sincerity.

They continued to walk towards the origin point of the call that had brought them here. They passed countless grey, indistinct, and mostly abandoned buildings, which made them feel like they were walking in a circle.

“Oh, cmon,” Callion said, looking around desperately for a landmark, or anything about his surroundings that could be considered distinct or interesting. “You don’t have to be so nice all the time. I mean, I got no problem admitting that I don’t want to be here.”

Callion yawned, stretching his chubby arms into the air. It was night, and the wind was cool, and relaxing. It was one of those ideal, archetypical nights. Nothing but a clear sky with perfectly arranged, bright stars, and the moon casting its silver glow overhead. And despite the crime-ridden reputation of this town, there was something calming about its emptiness. Even Cabba could feel his eyelids growing heavier by the second.

Cabba was snapped awake by the sight of what was certainly the origin of their distress call. It was an intersection, with overturned cars and general wreckage strewn about. There were innocent Saiyans trapped underneath the wreckage too, probably commuters trying to make their way through this seedy district as fast as possible. Their desperate cries for help made Cabba wince.

And in the middle of the wreckage was a single Saiyan, wild-eyed and lanky, wearing a bulky trench coat that covered most of his body.

He seemed to be lost in his own world, firing ki blasts chaotically, causing meaningless destruction in every direction. His face and skin were noticeably distorted, similar to the disfigurements the mutated Yarrow had.

Stranger still, his hair was an identical shade of gold to that of a Super Saiyan. He clearly wasn’t transformed, however, as his hair was inert, as opposed to raised and floating, and he lacked the distinct aura of a Super Saiyan as well.

Still, he cried out “Behold, the Legendary Super Saiyan!” with twisted glee, as he spun around, continuing the process of his careless destruction.

Cabba felt a chilly, creeping dread crawl up and down his spine. There was no doubt, this was Zeleri’s doing. He couldn’t have escaped, could he? No, Cabba would’ve been notified if he had. He must’ve mutated this Saiyan before he was imprisoned, and instructed him to reveal himself at a later date. Still, the way this Saiyan looked, especially the hair dye...this was clearly meant to put Cabba on edge. And, unfortunately, it worked.

“Hey, Cabba!” Callion said, a bluish-green aura surrounding him as he charged his energy. “You help out the ones who are trapped, I’ll take care of this guy.”

Cabba nodded, rushing over to one of the overturned cars. He lifted it up with ease, freeing the Saiyan woman underneath.

“Can you walk?” Cabba said. She nodded. “Alright, you should get out of here.”

“Thank you,” she said, keeping her head down as she ran off.

“Hey, over here!” Callion said, hurling a teal ball of Ki at the deranged Saiyan. The Saiyan was terrifyingly agile, and hurled his body away from the blast, which exploded harmlessly in front of him. It still succeeded in its purpose of getting the Saiyan’s attention, as his head whipped wildly around. He glared at Callion with his widened, bloodshot eyes that twitched around unsettlingly.

Without warning, the Saiyan charged at him, swinging and flailing his arms in a flurry of deadly, chaotic arcs. Callion really did have impressive agility, especially for his size, and he was able to easily weave through his opponent’s undisciplined blows.

The rogue Saiyan didn’t appear to lose any stamina. If anything, he got more energetic and forceful with each consecutive strike, and Callion could only go on the defensive for so long.

Callion stepped back, and then pushed his body forward, slamming his palm skillfully into his foe’s chest.

The Saiyan went flying back, slamming into the ground and leaving a small crater in the concrete.The Saiyan jumped forth from the impromptu crevice, and resumed his savage onslaught against Callion.

Meanwhile, Cabba was freeing the last of the Saiyan civilians. An older Saiyan man thanked him silently as he ran off to safety. Unfortunately, his movement caught the eye of the rabid Saiyan. His head whipped violently around, as he hurled a pulsating, unstable blast of ki at the fleeing bystander.

“Enough,” Cabba said, golden Super Saiyan energy surging through his body. He appeared in front of the blast, knocking it away with a single chop. It exploded harmlessly against the concrete.

“Ah, I see that you’re a Super Saiyan too,” the mutated Saiyan said. “But a mere Super Saiyan is nothing compared to me, the Legendary Super Saiyan himself!”

Cabba scowled. He couldn’t let this get to him. He focused his attention on the Saiyan he was saving instead.

“Are you okay?” he said, turning his head around. It was an amatuer mistake. Even as a Super Saiyan, it was foolish to take his eyes away from an unstable, unpredictable foe.

“Cabba, watch out!” Callion said, but it was already too late. The mutant had closed the gap between himself and Cabba. He stuck out his hand, firing a concentrated blast of Ki directly into Cabba’s eyes.

The blindness wasn’t instantaneous. There was a split second where Cabba could see the world as it was. Then, distorted, spotty, blurred. And then, blackness. Cabba clutched his hands over his eyes, biting his lip, suppressing a whimper.

“Doesn’t feel so good to be on the receiving end, does it?” the Saiyan snarled.

“Don’t worry Cabba, I can finish him off!” Callion said.

Cabba was still blinded, but he could hear the sound of blows being exchanged, and ki blasts being fired back and forth.

Cabba rubbed his eyes desperately. This exacerbated the pain, but it allowed him a small fraction of his vision back.

He could make out the murky silhouette of Callion and his combatant, and Callion appeared to be winning. He was done simply avoiding the Saiyan’s blows, now, he was ready to go on the offensive.

“Scalding Catapult!” Callion said, proudly declaring the name of his signature move. He surrounded himself with a teal aura, and then, launched himself at the Saiyan, fist extended.

He soared through the air, as his fist collided with the Saiyan’s face with a thundering, heroic crack. The Saiyan stumbled back, but managed to keep his ground. Callion took advantage of his momentary loss of balance, following up with a series of rapid, intricate blows.

“Rapid-Fire Storming Strike!” Callion bellowed, taking another opportunity to declare the name of his technique to the world.

The Saiyan was knocked from one side to the other, and then back towards the center with each subsequent blow. Without the skill or ability required to dodge, the Saiyan was trapped in Callion’s attack, bouncing from one strike to the next.

“And finally...Thundering Finisher!” Callion stopped his rapid-fire attack, raising his hands above his head while the Saiyan was stunned. He brought both of them down, hard, onto the Saiyan’s head, smashing him into the ground, entombing him in shattered concrete.

“Hey, Cabba, I did it!” Callion said, so that there would be no ambiguity about the outcome of the battle to his blinded friend.

Cabba smiled. His vision had improved, although he still couldn’t make out fine details, and colors seemed to be slightly dulled. Guilt snaked through his body. The Saiyan’s blinding blast wasn’t as concentrated or accurate as the one he had used on Yarrow. So, perhaps, if he had taken more time, and used less power, he could’ve saved his friend’s vision.

He banished these doubts from his mind. That was obviously what Zeleri wanted him to think.

“Good job,” Cabba said.

“I guess I am just as good as any Super Saiyan,” Callion said with playful boastfulness.

Cabba nodded. “We should get out of here. Sadala is going to want to know what…”

Cabba was interrupted, as the mad Saiyan erupted from the ground. He tore off his jacket, wrapping his arms and legs around Callion’s body.

Even with his impaired vision, Cabba could still make out the surgical stitches on the Saiyan’s body and the unnatural bulges underneath. They stretched the skin enough to make it slightly translucent. The objects underneath his skin were metallic, with red timers that emitted a barely-audible beep.

“Hahahaha! Witness the power of the Legendary Super Saiyan!” he said, as the timers neared zero. His head whipped around devilishly, as he glared at Cabba with his soulless eyes.

“The doctor will see you soon,” he said.

In recalling this moment, Cabba always remembered there being a moment of silence before the explosion, although he wasn’t sure if it was real, or simply an invention of his memory. Perhaps, the sound and chaos of the subsequent blast made everything before it seem silent by comparison.

The explosion was powerful, but concentrated. It burned a hole in the street beneath them several inches deep, but the surrounding buildings remained unharmed, save for the occasional bit of stray shrapnel.

Cabba instinctively looked towards the sky, to draw his gaze away from the destruction below.

How could the sky still be blue?

Cabba turned Super Saiyan reflexively as the explosion finally reached him. It knocked the wind out of him, but it wasn’t lethal. He didn’t check to see if his friend was dead. He didn’t even bother trying to sense his energy. There was no way he could have survived.

Cabba dropped to his knees, keeping his gaze skyward.

Cabba dusted himself off, pulling his communicator out of his pocket and bringing it up to his ear.

“We saw what happened with Callion, we’re already on our way,” the voice on the other end said, pre-empting Cabba. “I’m sorry to do this to you, but you need to get back to headquarters right away. Communication’s been down with the prison all day. We sent someone down there to investigate, and...Zeleri’s escaped.”

“How many times have we done this?” Yarrow said, cracking his knuckles. “I’ve already lost track.”

“It’s been 47,” Zeleri said with cold certainty. His head was pointed towards the ground, his unwashed hair covering his eyes.

“Really? I guess it’s true what they said, time flies when you’re having fun. I’m honestly surprised that I haven’t killed you by now. Maybe I should just go ahead and finish you. It’d be pretty easy to blame your death on another prisoner. Hell, even if I confessed, who would blame me?”

“If you are going to kill me, I’d like to tell you a secret first.”

“Fine,” Yarrow said with a scoff. “What’s your secret?”

“As the Chief Doctor of Planet Sadla, I have access to information that is kept hidden from the general public. It has been proven, through repeated observation of soldiers who recover from near-fatal wounds, that Saiyans become stronger every time they come back from the brink of death. We’ve kept this a secret, to prevent soldiers from suicidally throwing themselves into combat in hopes of gaining strength. Only myself, and a select few Sadla Defense Force elites and medical experts know about this fact.”

Zeleri pushed the hair out of his face, to meet Yarrow’s gaze. Something had changed. His eyes were still steely, but there was some small spark of rage where there had been none before.

“And additionally, I’ve developed some theories about the Super Saiyan transformation during my imprisonment. Cabba achieved his transformation during a moment of extreme anger and desperation, and I assumed that this emotional state was all it took to unlock it. Of course, this cannot be the case. Saiyans are constantly driven to extreme rage, or put in extremely desperate situations, and yet not every soldier who loses their squad in battle becomes a Super Saiyan. My amended theory is that it is unlocked through rage, yes, but only after the Saiyan in question has surpassed a certain threshold of power. And, with your help, I’ve finally crossed the threshold, of both power and rage. I know I’ve been rambling for a while, but what I really want to say is…”

Yarrow ran to the end of the cell, slamming his hand against the security button.

Zeleri’s body ignited with golden flames. His hair stood up like the jagged spines of a mighty reptile. His eyes turned green, and his scowl turned into a smile.

“Thank you.”

The cell’s ki suppression was no match for Zeleri’s surging Super Saiyan power. It overloaded itself, and with a deafening burst, the entire prison’s power grid was overloaded along with it.

The lights flickered off, with the lone source of illumination being Zeleri’s newfound radiant aura. The power suppression fields and electronic locks were disabled throughout the jail. Prisoners rushed out of their cells, past their guards who stumbled around in the darkness.

Yarrow braced himself as Zeleri approached, but to his surprise, he simply exited his cell, walking past him. His hair and aura cast a golden glow against the walls of the blackened prison, as he strolled casually down the hallway, as if he had nowhere to be.

“You bastard!” Yarrow said, throwing himself between Zeleri and the exit. The power outage meant nothing to Yarrow, who had been learning to fight in complete darkness for months.

“Stand aside,” Zeleri said. “You know that the only reason I haven’t killed you already is because you aren’t a threat. If you make yourself a nuisance, I may be forced to change my mind.”

Yarrow roared, swinging his fist through the air.

Zeleri could’ve easily let Yarrow hit him. The gap in their power was so vast, his attack would’ve been completely harmless. But after months of allowing Yarrow to punch him, time and time again, Zeleri didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of even touching him ever again.

He casually sidestepped Yarrow’s punch, and the next one, and all the subsequent rage-filled strikes after that. Zeleri was stunned by his own power, he was on an entirely different level. He was to Yarrow as Yarrow was to the single-celled organisms which he evolved from billions of years ago.

Even after thoroughly proving that Yarrow was no threat to him, Yarrow kept punching, each attack avoided with a skillful dodge.

Zeleri grew bored of Yarrow, and so, he continued his path towards the exit, while simultaneously avoiding Yarrow’s futile assault.

Yarrow gritted his teeth. He was right there, right in front of him, and yet, he might as well be punching at empty space.

He stopped punching. And then, he started laughing. There was something funny about this, a blind man punching and flailing uselessly at the open air. Maybe Zeleri wasn’t there at all. Maybe he was simply going mad.

He dropped to his knees, and he kept laughing. He wondered if he’d be crying, if he could.

He heard the exit doors swing open, and then the roar of a spaceship’s engine.

Yarrow placed his hand against the ground. He balled up his hand into a fist, smashing it into the prison floor, and shattering it underneath his knuckles. It felt good to have something break.

The Sadla Defense Force was dealing with the situation, but just barely. Every active member of the Defense Force, and the Galactic Patrol was deployed simultaneously, in an attempt to locate Zeleri and the other criminals who escaped.

Cabba was trapped in the medical bay, meanwhile, under the care of a rotund, bald Saiyan with small round glasses that failed to cover up the entirety of his eyes.

“You need to let me go!” Cabba said from the medical table he was sitting on, which was clearly designed for a Saiyan at least twice his size.

“If he really is a Super Saiyan like the reports said, I’m the only one who can defeat him.”

“I’m sorry,” the doctor said. “I have direct orders from the King himself to keep you here. I cannot let you go until we’re sure that you’ve recovered fully.”

“I didn’t sustain any injuries,” Cabba said.

“It’s not your physical well-being that you’re concerned with. Zeleri was clearly trying to get underneath your skin, and you had a close friend die in front of you. This is in addition to that incident with Yarrow from months ago…”

“That’s exactly why you need to let me fight him,” Cabba said.

“No, that is exactly why you need to stay. Wanting revenge...that’s not like you, Cabba. It wouldn’t be right to let someone who’s emotionally unstable into battle, just as it would be irresponsible to send out a wounded soldier. I hope you understand. Besides, we’re still not sure where Zeleri is. Perhaps, if we find him, we’ll reevaluate, but as of now, all we can do is search, and you’re no more equipped to do that than any other soldier.”

“You’re right,” Cabba said. Guilt creeped through him. The doctor was right, he wasn’t a vengeful person. But that surging desire for vengeance, it felt good, it felt natural. It was what turned him into a Super Saiyan in the first place, after all.

Maybe the doctor was right, maybe seeing Callion die did change him. But, if it had, he didn’t want to change back. He was better like this, angry, and hardened, just like Vegeta. If being stable meant going back to the way things used to be, he would embrace unwellness wholeheartedly.

He didn’t let his anger subside, instead, he simply compartmentalized it, putting it in a box in a corner of his mind. He would need it for later.

In the meantime, Cabba sighed, leaning back on the table, against that crinkling waxed paper. He looked up at the lights, noting the way they would flicker inconsistently. The doctor was right. For now, all he could do is wait.

“I’ll leave you alone for now,” the doctor said, adjusting his classes. “I’ll keep you updated if anything happens. In the meantime, I suggest getting some rest. We’ll provide you counseling and a psyche evaluation tomorrow. We’re understaffed at the moment, I’m sure you understand.”

Cabba nodded, and continued to examine the lights. There was no pattern to the way they dimmed and flickered, almost as if they had a mind of their own.

Weeks passed, and then months. Most of the criminals who had escaped were rounded up, but there was still no leads on where Zeleri had escaped to.

“Are you ready for your evaluation?” the doctor said, adjusting his glasses.

“I don’t want to do this,” Cabba said, trying his best to avoid eye contact, keeping his eyes locked to the floor tiles. “How long are you going to keep me here?”

“The sooner you drop that attitude the quicker you can leave.”

 

Cabba clenched his fists, and grit his teeth together, before flinching from his own display of rage.

“I won’t feel better until I find him,” Cabba said.

“We’re doing the best we can to locate him. There’s no reason to involve…”

“I’d be fine if you just let me leave! The only reason why the King wants to keep me here is so I don’t hurt his ‘old friend.’ He knows I’m the only one who can actually stop him. If I’d have just killed him in the first place, none of this would’ve happened.” Cabba barked.

Cabba’s eyes widened, as he was yanked out of his unconscious, dreamlike state of anger.

“I’m sorry,” was what he attempted to say, but his voice was dry, and nothing came out.

His doctor’s face drooped, as adjusted his glasses back to their original position.

“Well, if that’s how you feel, I need to order an extension of your stay here. You can be mad at me if you want.”

“No, you’re right,” Cabba said.

“Well, at leave we’ve made some progress today. It’s getting late, you should get some rest.”

The doctor flicked off the lights as he left the room.

Cabba awoke with a jolt, as the dark room was illuminated, and the silence broken, by the buzzing sound and blue light of his communicator.

He brought it up to his ear, and was met with a familiar voice. It was Zeleri’s, unmistakably. His voice was cold and dull, with each syllable laboriously and perfectly pronounced.

“Hello. This is Cabba, isn’t it?”

“What do you want?” Cabba said, his voice hushed, hand cupped over the communicator’s speakers.

“I’ll be honest about my intentions. You’re the only Saiyan left who poses any kind of threat to me. I want to fight you, and eliminate that threat, just as you want to eliminate me. Therefore, the best thing for both of us would be a fair, one-on-one fight. I will send you the coordinates. If you bring anyone else, or if you take too long, I will leave, and you will never see me again.”

Cabba was hit by a wave of guilt. He couldn’t tell if it was for what he was about to do, or what would happen if he didn’t.

A set of coordinates appeared on the screen of Cabba’s communicator. It was late, and everyone was asleep. Nobody would notice if he borrowed a ship. They would find out eventually. Even if Cabba succeeded, he would still be punished, perhaps even discharged. But that didn’t matter. If it wasn’t for their rules, Callion would still be alive.

Cabba suited up, and got into the cockpit of one of the smaller ships. It was rounded, and bubble-shaped in the front, with rectangular thrusters in the back. It was designed primarily for scouting and exploration, making it ideal for Cabba’s current purposes.

Cabba took care to log the date and time of his departure, and where he intended to go. Even though he was breaking the rules, he still wanted Planet Sadla to know where he had gone, in case he didn’t come back.

Cabba strapped in, and departed into the stars with the barely-audible hiss of the scoutship’s engines.

The planet was far, far outside of any map that Cabba had ever seen. As the planet came into view, its most unusual feature became apparent: the planet had standard, habitable terrain, with the exception of a large, circular area on its surface. It looked like a large, icy tundra, and stranger still, it was perfectly circular, suggesting an artificial origin.

Cabba pulled in his ship closer, as the coordinates pointed directly to that very tundra.

Cabba parked his ship, and stepped out onto the planet’s pale surface. His feet sunk into the ground, and he realized that he wasn’t standing on snow or ice, but an expanse of ashes that went on in every direction. The sunlight reflected off of the ash, stinging his eyes, although his vision soon adjusted.

He could make out a small, dark-clothed figure on the horizon. And he appeared to be getting closer. The sound of ashes crunching underneath his foot served as the only sound to break the stark silence.

“Do you know the legends of this planet?” Zeleri said, as he grew ever closer to Cabba.

“They’ve been mostly lost to time, but I’ve had plenty of time to study in my absence. This place was a sacred site to Saiyans, countless centuries ago. They say this is where the first Super Saiyan unleashed his power, and that his might was so great that it burned a circle of ash into this planet forever. The greatest and most powerful of the ancient Saiyans built temples and laboratories here, where they worked to unlock the potential of the Saiyan race. I’ve already paid a visit to their temples and libraries, extracted all of the necessary information, and destroyed them.”

Cabba spread his legs apart, and clawed his hands, getting into his combat stance.

“And among these texts, I discovered a particular tome that detailed the true power of the fabled original Super Saiyan. A power far beyond that of an ordinary Super Saiyan, something involving the Saiyan race’s lost tails and connection to the moon. This is all preamble, of course, my purpose with you remains the same: you are the only other living Super Saiyan in all of Universe 6, and if I am to succeed unimpeded, I must destroy you.”

Zeleri’s golden aura erupted around him, as the ash rose up from the ground and encircled him in a ghostly halo.

Cabba transformed with a determined roar. Clouds of ash scattered in every direction from the explosive form of his transformation. He could feel his arage pulsate through him, like a white heat that started behind his eyes and traveled through his body.

The two Super Saiyans stood above the ashes, underneath the white-hot sun.

“I’m going to kill you,” Cabba said. The words felt like acid as they poured out of his mouth. He could hardly believe what he was saying, and yet, there was something empowering about putting words to his rage. He couldn’t lie to himself anymore.

“You’re welcome to try.”

Zeleri charged towards Cabba with his fist extended. It was a predictable first move, and Cabba was able to block it by crossing his arms in front of his chest. He underestimated the force of Zeleri’s blow, however. Even while defending himself, he was still forced back several feet.

The ground they were fighting on was unstable as well, and it began to collapse underneath Cabba’s feet. He sunk quickly into the dry ash, as it piled around him, reaching up to his knees.

Cabba forced himself out of the hole, but doing so costed him precious seconds. This was something that Zeleri was more than willing to take advantage of.

Zeleri appeared behind Cabba, wrapping his hand around the back of his head. He slammed him down into the ground, face-first. The soft ashes proved advantageous this time, as Cabba suffered less damage than he would had the ground been solid.

He pushed back against Zeleri’s grip, forcing himself into the air. He extended his foot, hitting Zeleri square in the jaw with a brutal bicycle kick before landing back on his feet.

Zeleri clutched his injured jaw with one hand, and fired a fiery orange blast of ki with the other.

Cabba jumped out of the way of the blast. It exploded against the ground behind him, leaving a charred black ring on the previously uniformly white ground.

Cabba responded with a flurry of his own ki blasts, a chaotic storm of yellow spheres.

Zeleri released his jaw, and charged confidently into the onslaught. He struck the blasts away with the side of his hands. The ash split and parted like waves underneath him as he furiously encroached on his opponent.

Cabba allowed Zeleri to get close, and when he was near enough, he swung at him. Zeleri dodged to the side. Cabba didn’t have time to follow up, as he was already committed to the swing of his first punch, and as such he was left wide-open to retaliation. Zeleri took advantage of the opportunity, hitting Cabba with a solid punch to the chest. He tried to push his advantage, and followed his first attack with a rush of rapid blows.

The first punch knocked the wind out of Cabba. His chest felt empty and his throat burned, but he still managed to put his arms up in time to block the majority of Zeleri’s attack. Blocking was all he could do, however. Zeleri’s punches were unrelentingly fast, and Cabba couldn’t block or counterattack while out of breath. He gasped, trying to squeeze a bit of air into his lungs to keep him going, but he knew it was only a matter of time before Zeleri pushed him to exhaustion.

Cabba winced. His arms began to ache as Zeleri’s fists smashed into him over and over. Clouds of ash were stirred up by their fight, stinging his eyes and burning his lungs. Zeleri had improved terrifyingly in the span of a few months. Even as a Super Saiyan, he shouldn’t have been this strong.

Cabba couldn’t keep this up any longer. He dropped his guard, and took a step back, hoping to put some distance between himself and Zeleri so he could catch his breath.

Cabba could feel his lungs swelling and a small portion of his stamina restoring as he took a deep breath.

Zeleri lunged at him, ready to strike, but Cabba was prepared. He dove between Zeleri’s legs, landing behind Zeleri and leaving him completely vulnerable. He stuck out his palm, and from it erupted a stream of small yellow ki blasts.

The ki blasts exploded against Zeleri’s back. Chunks of his armor were burned off, and the edges of his robes glowed orange as they were scorched by the heat of the blasts.

Zeleri cursed himself for losing his advantage, and in a moment of anger, he whipped around and fired a single-handed beam of golden ki at his opponent.

Cabba sidestepped Zeleri’s blast effortlessly. Cabba vanished, and appeared above Zeleri, hands balled up into a fist and raised above his head. He brought both of his fists down in an arc.

There was a mighty crack as Cabba’s fists made contact with the back of Zeleri’s neck. The softness of the ash deprived him of a dignified descent, as he fell limply to the ground with a humiliating squishing sound.

Zeleri’s Super Saiyan energy silently left his body. His hair was black, and motionless, and his body caked in burns and ash.

Cabba stood over his foe. His arms were sore, and his knees felt weak, but this was different from the post-combat aches he had experienced before.

Zeleri was defeated, but the fight wasn’t over yet. Cabba needed to kill him. He wanted to kill him. Or did he? His arm felt heavy, as he raised it laboriously, charging a fatal purple ki blast in his palm.

Was this cowardice? Guilt? Misplaced morality? Cabba never imagined himself hesitating when he pictured this moment in his head. It had felt so good to want this before.

His hand twitched, but the charging energy remained. All he needed to do was release it. Why couldn’t he?

This isn’t what Vegeta would have done. He would let his anger and pride boil over, and drive him to undeniable victory.

Cabba wanted to be like that. He wanted his rage to consume him, and bring him downstream. He wanted it to propel him like a machine, to drive him to his goal with no other obstacles or hesitation. He was tired of thinking, and feeling. He wanted to act, he wanted to kill.

But he couldn’t. He lowered his hand.

The ground began to collapse under Zeleri, creating a fissure and drawing his unconscious body in. Cabba watched his body sink. This was the most he could hope to do, an indirect death, murder through inaction.

Zeleri’s body was completely submerged. It wouldn’t be long before the ash filled his lungs completely, and he drowned. Cabba felt no instinct to reach in and save him, so why couldn’t he bring himself to kill him before?

Cabba sighed. He wiped the sweat and encrusted ash from his forehead, as he made his way back to his ship.

There was a faint hum underneath the ashes, and then, a golden glow…

Zeleri erupted from the ashes below before Cabba could react. His Super Saiyan aura was reignited, and he held a glowing blue circle in his hand.

Zeleri placed the circle over his head, and it snapped tightly around it, like some sort of headband.

Cabba blinked, as the world slowed down around him. The heat of his Super Saiyan energy was ripped away from him, and replaced with a sudden chill. He tried to move, but he felt sluggish, like he was underwater.

And his back...he felt as though someone had carved out his upper back with a knife and replaced it with ice. He couldn’t think straight, he only had the vague knowledge that he was no longer a Super Saiyan.

He concentrated, and tried to gather up the energy to transform, but he couldn’t. The headband tightened around his skull. He pushed his fingers against the accursed crown, but it wouldn’t budge.

“I fashioned a device during my absence from the energy suppression cuffs I was forced to wear in prison. It prevents you from turning Super Saiyan, as you’ve already noticed. It’s irremovable, and if you manage to damage it somehow, it will release a poison into your system that will kill you within minutes. And with that, I am the last living Super Saiyan in the universe.”

Cabba screamed. He threw himself at Zeleri. And then, he fell face-first into the ash. He picked himself back up. He tried to think. His thoughts were cut short.

He was struck with countless punches. By time he managed to fully perceive and react to the first punch, he had already been struck with a dozen more.

He lost track of what was happening. His reality was burning, blood, and arrhythmic pulses of pain.

He blinked. He realized that only a second had passed. He was falling. He let himself fall. The ashes turned pink as they soaked up his blood.

He closed his eyes, and he let the ashes cradle him. He did not move, and he did not fight. He belonged among the ashes.

“Your injuries aren’t fatal, I made sure of that,” Zeleri said. “If you want to live, answer my question. I need a sample of ancient Saiyan DNA to restore my tail and proceed with my plan. The corpses in the temples of this planet are tailless, I need an older source. Do you know where I could find one?”

Cabba spoke, voice muffled by ash, body possessed by cowardice.

“Planet Namek...the Dragon Balls. They can...grant any wish,”

“Thank you. And as for the lethality of your wounds...they aren’t fatal right now, but you can expect to bleed out within the hour. Goodbye.”

Zeleri stopped existing as soon as he stopped speaking. Cabba returned to his world of unrelenting pain.

He betrayed Planet Sadla. He put his friends, and Planet Namek in danger. And the worst part was, it didn’t hurt as much as it should have. Not as much as his broken ribs.

He saw a ruined building in the horizon. He extended his unbroken arm, dug his fingers into the ash, and pulled himself forward. There was nothing at this building that could help him, he already knew that. But it was a destination, a goal, and without something to work towards he would perish prematurely.

He was at the steps of the ruined temple. Crushed pillars and stone surrounded him, as the ash slowly devoured them, reclaiming him. He looked at the snaking trail of blood behind him. Soon enough, he would be among them, and he would return with them to the insatiable maw of the ash.


	4. Chapter 4

Namek was Zeleri’s favorite kind of planet: peaceful, quiet, rich with biologically diverse life. He could spend hours sitting in one spot, cataloging the various creatures that scuttled by. And, if things were still like they were a year ago, that’s exactly what he would have done. But things had changed, and he was on a mission.

Zeleri was accompanied by a pair of mutated Saiyans, sporting the usual deformities. Both wore the uniform of the Sadla Defense Force. One was a younger Saiyan with his hair partially dyed dark blue. He was a rookie, who was simply at the wrong place in the wrong time. 

The second was an older Saiyan, who was still of relatively low rank. He lacked ambition, and was satisfied with his current position, so he never bothered trying to move up, even in his later years. His contentment was almost admirable. 

Zeleri stood at the edge of a cliff, overlooking a Namekian village. Farmers worked away at their crops casually, and the children crowded around a wrinkly old elder as he amused them with his tale of some obscure Namekian fable. 

Zeleri spoke down to the village, making sure his voice was loud and clear, so he could be understood. 

“I am here for your Dragon Ball,” Zeleri said. “If you surrender it to me, there will be no further conflict. If you refuse, I will have no choice but to attack. If you do not wish to involve yourself in the coming battle, I suggest you leave now.”

“Go,” the elder said to the surrounding children. They nodded, not fully understanding the situation but recognizing the fear in the elder’s eyes. The children formed into a neat, single-file line as they marched behind a nearby hill for cover. A portion of the farmers did the same, but several others chose to stay, focusing their attention away from their crops and onto the bellowing Saiyan above.

“What do you want with our Dragon Ball?” the elder said, as youthful, uniformed Namekian warriors assembled around him. 

“I need it to advance an agenda of mine. I assure you, if you give me the Dragon Ball and allow my plan to move forward, the Namekian people will not be harmed. I have no grudge against you, or your planet.”

“Bah, we already know who you are,” the elder spat. “You’re wanted by the Galactic Patrol, and the Sadla Defense Force. Even if you leave Namek alone, we will not allow your violence against the Saiyans continue.”

Zeleri smiled. “Your solidarity with my people is admirable, but I assure you, we don’t need your help. I’d recommend you act in your own best interest and give me the Dragon Ball.”  
“I will never surrender the power of the Eternal Dragon to murderous scum like you.”

“Well, you’ve made your choice,” Zeleri said, turning to face his Saiyan thralls. “Kill all of the warriors, spare the children and the elder at all costs, and only kill the farmers if they attack you first.”

A whirlwind of violence ensured. The Namekian warriors displayed their impressive regenerative abilities, but that was only because they were so swiftly and brutally dismembered by Zeleri’s warriors.

“Regeneration is such an enviable ability,” Zeleri said, seemingly disinterested with the battle going on around him as he approached the elder. 

“And magic as well. I’m a man of science myself, but the power to grant wishes and resurrect the dead, well, that cannot be discounted.”

The elder snatched the Dragon Ball from his pocket, holding it tightly in his wrinkled grasp. “You need all seven of the Dragon Balls to make your wish. If I destroy this one, your plan will fail.”

“Yes, that’s what the last elder told me. And the one before that. The one before that said nothing, and the one before him simply begged for his life. There were six in total before I met you, and all in all, your reaction is the least original”

The elder scowled, and tightened his grip, hoping to pulverise the ball to dust. 

There was a flash of golden light, and then, the elder was no longer holding the Dragon Ball. Or rather, his hand was still wrapped tightly around it, but his arm was simply no longer attached. Zeleri pried the Dragon Ball out of his disembodied hand, before discarding the useless limb. 

He turned over the ball in his hand, admiring its perfectly spherical shape. 

“And, if I’m not mistaken, this makes seven.”

The elder roared, as a new arm erupted from his wound. “Even if you have all seven Dragon Balls, you cannot summon the Dragon without knowledge of the Namekian language.”

“Yes, that would be an obstacle, but I took care to extract the incantation from one of the other elders I defeated. Something like takkaraputo popurunga pupirittoparo. Hopefully the Dragon isn’t picky about pronunciation."

The elder was out of options. He raised his hand, pressing his fingers together, firing a blast from his palm. Even without Zeleri’s newfound Super Saiyan power, the blast was pitiful, bouncing harmlessly off of his armor.   
“E-even if you do use the Dragon Balls, they have no use to a killer like you! They can only grant the wish of resurrection.”

“Exactly what I was hoping for, then.”

His two Saiyan thralls appeared behind him. After disposing of all of the warriors who hadn’t simply surrendered, they mindlessly awaited their masters next orders.

“This one’s served his purpose, as have you. Dispose of him, and then of yourselves.”

The two Saiyans slaid the elder with a pair of ki blasts. Then, they turned to each other, coldly firing beams into each other’s hards, collapsing to the ground in near-perfect unison. Zeleri deactivated his transformation and turned coldly to the Dragon Balls.

Zeleri assembled the spheres in a circle at his feet. He spoke the incantation, and the sky grew pitch-black, with the exception of a blinding flash of lightning. A coiled, serpentine beam of energy erupted from the circle, forming into an enormous, horned green dragon. 

“Eternal Dragon! Hear my wish!” Zeleri said in Namekian. He took care to learn not only the incantation to summon the dragon, but to have his wish translated into the Dragon’s native language as well. 

“Resurrect an ancient Saiyan, from the time when they held the power of the Great Ape!”

“Your wish has been granted,” The Dragon said. The sky cleared, the wind stopped, and the Dragon vanished. The balls floated in the air momentarily, before scattering in separate directions, not to be used again for another year.

And where the Dragon Balls had been, there was a woman. She wore ragged, ancient-looking clothes, with her tail wrapped around her waist like a belt. Her hair was long, spiky, and tangled, caked with blood and dirt. Her clothing was covered in a similar layer of filth. Zeleri could only make out some of her face; a small, pointed nose, gritted teeth and eyes full of a fury that gave Zeleri chills. 

Her stillness was broken by a furious lunge towards Zeleri, fingers extended like talons. Her hands cut through the air, attempting to strike Zeleri with wide, arcing blows.

He backed away from her attack, but without the extra speed that his transformation granted him, she managed to strike him. It was a glancing blow, but a painful one, leaving a long, bloody gash just above his eye. 

“Stop! I have no intention of hurting you!” he said, but she didn’t respond or relent. She didn’t even seem to register his speech at all, as she wildly threw herself forward, her hand reeling back for another frenzied slash.

“Enough!” Zeleri said, erupting with a sudden surge of golden light. She lowered her hands, and simply watched. Her face softened, her expression almost one of familiarity. 

This was short-lived, however, as she clawed her first through the air with renewed savagery. The attack was simple enough to dodge now that he was powered-up, but the aggression itself was the problem. He would need a compliant ally for his plan to move forward.

“Didn’t you hear me? I was the one who brought you back. I want to help you!” 

Once again, Zeleri’s words were useless. Her assault continued, and worse still, her power seemed to be growing. Why couldn’t she understand him? It was almost as if…

Ah, yes, it was obvious now. Zeleri had requested an ancient Saiyan, and he had received one. The Dragon had given him a Saiyan from an era before the complex, verbal language that the Saiyans now used was invented. Talking was useless, then, and there was something liberating in that fact. Regardless, he would need to find another way to indicate that he meant her no harm. 

Zeleri powered down, and dropped to his knees, allowing her hands to carve another wound into his face. Zeleri winced, but ultimately persisted through the sharp, sudden pain. He put his hands to his side, and bowed his head slightly. 

The Saiyan raised her hand, and then, she stopped. She cocked her head. Her face softened from behind her wild hair, and her eye grew wide. She sniffed the air, circling slowly around Zeleri. 

“I’m not surrendering,” Zeleri said, although he knew his words were useless. “I’m merely showing you that I don’t want to fight. Do you understand?”

Slowly, she returned to the front of Zeleri. And then, she dropped to her knees, hand at her side, head slightly bowed, mimicking his pose. 

“Excellent,” Zeleri said, rising back to his feet with an exceptionally rare expression: a sincere smile. The Saiyan woman did the same.

“I am Zeleri,” he said, pointing to himself. ˇhen, he moved his finger from his chest to the Saiyan’s. “And your name is?”

He hoped that, at the very least, the concept of names existed in whatever prehistoric era she came from. 

“Vidalia,” she said. Her voice was strange, scratchy and guttural. Perhaps it was a byproduct of her recent resurrection, or simply the tone of Saiyans from that era. Regardless, she had a name, and it seemed like they had finally reached an understanding. 

“Well, Vidalia. I intend to take you aboard my ship. Once there, I need your help with a plan of mine, if you’re willing to comply. In return, well, I will provide you with anything I can offer.”

Once again, his words were mostly wasted, but she did seem to understand the sense of purpose in his voice, and looked prepared to follow him. 

Zeleri levitated briefly, glancing behind to see if Vidalia would follow. She raised herself off the ground too, and once he was sure that there was an understanding, they flew off together towards his ship. 

Vidalia was fascinated by the craft, immediately darting towards it once they arrived, dragging her fingers along the side of the hull with a low, amused growl. 

Zeleri opened the hatch, and Vidalia immediately darted inside. Once again, she was enraptured by the minutiae of this ordinary Sadla vessel, gazing and clawing at every curious object or flickering light.

Her attention was drawn back to Zeleri, however, as he pulled out a small, disc-shaped device that projected a blue hologram above his head.

It depicted a carving from the Saiyan temple he had visited. A golden haired Saiyan with tail was shown, underneath the moonlight. There was text underneath, in a language that was no longer used. It was easy enough for Zeleri to translate, almost as if the authors had anticipated the existence of future historians and made their language intentionally simple to understand.

“This was made centuries after your death, after the Saiyan race had already become tailless. The text says something about an ancient, lost Saiyan power that activates underneath the light of the moon. And, when combined with the power of the Super Saiyan, they evolve to their full potential, becoming a being of immense power, immune to decay, undefeatable. Perhaps you’re familiar?”

Vidalia’s eyes were wide at the depiction, although it was impossible to tell if that was because the image was familiar to her, or if she was simply drawn to the flickering blue of the holographic light. 

“This is the power I wish to attain,” Zeleri said. “As a doctor, I have witnessed death, disease, and decay my entire life. I have seen, and felt, the transformation from a living thing into an object, a corpse, as they slip away beneath my fingers despite my best efforts. I have seen battlefields littered with death.Perhaps there is an afterlife, and perhaps you are evidence of that. But I will not wait around in the void for someone to revive me through magic. I want to break free from weakness, from entropy, from death itself. This power is the key to that...and so are you.”

Zeleri was certain that Vidalia could not understand him, and perhaps that is why he felt so comfortable talking to her. 

“Anyways, we should go. I have work to do.”

Zeleri flipped a switch, and the engine slowly pulsed. The ship floated several feet off the ground before charging past the atmosphere and back into space. Vidalia’s face was inches away from the glass, as she took in the unfamiliarity of the vast cosmos. Zeleri set his course for his new lab, a facility he had rented in a planet mostly occupied by pirates and criminals, that the Galactic Patrol generally ignored. 

Zeleri activated the ship’s autopilot, as he turned to his passenger. “I should get you new clothes,” he said. He opened a closet near the back of the ship, which contained various standard-issue Sadla Defense Force uniforms. He took out a female uniform in roughly Vidalia’s size, tossing it to her. 

“There’s a bathroom in the back where you can change, if you need…”

To Zeleri’s surprise, she had already stripped herself naked completely in front of him. More pressing than her mere nudity was the long, snaking, still-bloody wound across her torso that it revealed. 

He wasn’t entirely shocked that she hadn’t mentioned it before. She was a warrior, presumably, and she had just experienced life for the first time in centuries. Still, he would need to address it immediately, before she died for the second time. 

He escorted her to the medbay in the back of the ship. It was an extremely cramped, sterile, and pure white room, but it had all of the necessary equipment. 

“Lay down,” he said, pointing to the medical bed. Vidalia understood Zeleri’s intention by his tone and gesture, and the function of the bed by its shape, so, she laid down upon its unpleasantly cold surface. 

First, Zeleri bathed the wound in antiseptic. He stitched the wound shut, with the same elegance as any other craftsman. His almost unusually long fingers were surprisingly dexterous, weaving the thread in and out almost painlessly. When he was done, he covered it with a waterproof bandage. Vidalia was unusually silent throughout the process, looking at Zeleri’s hands as he worked, as if she was witnessing a feat of magic. She ran her hands over the bandage, in disbelief. 

“There, you should be fine,” Zeleri said, trying his best to compartmentalize the fact of Vidalia’s nakedness, which he was now once again aware of.

“You should get dressed now. Although, perhaps it would be best for you to clean yourself first.”

Zeleri let her out of the medical room, and through the adjacent door to the bathroom. There was a small, but functional toilet, a proportional sink, and a shower that took up most of the room. 

“There,” Zeleri said, pointing towards it. “The shower may be a product of modernity, but I’d like to assume that bathing itself isn’t a recent invention.”

Vidalia nodded, parting the shower curtains and entering. Zeleri stood nearby, and now that Vidalia was out of sight, a hot rush of blood finally filled his cheeks. 

After a minute or so of waiting, there was still nothing but silence. He assumed that she could figure out the shower knobs on her own, but perhaps…

A hand shot out from between the shower curtains, with finger extended, beckoning Zeleri to come inside. Zeleri tried his best to rid himself of the physical manifestation of how flustered he was, but in doing so, he only became more crimson. 

He entered the shower regardless. It was only intended for one occupant at a time, and so, Zeleri was sandwiched between the blue tile of the shower’s wall, and Vidalia herself. 

“Ah, did you need my help?” he said, trying to look past her and towards the knobs beneath the inactive showerhead. 

She shook her head. Then, she backed up from Zeleri, which he assumed was to allow him some room to breathe. Instead, it was to provide Vidalia with enough space to gesture. Using her hands, across her entire body, she mimed the act of someone removing their clothes. Then, she pointed to Zeleri, prodding him in the chest. 

“Me?” he said with genuine shock. “Well, I’ll admit, I have been neglecting my hygiene a bit since I escaped from...ah…”

He removed his clothes, starting with his gloves and boots, then his chest armor, and finally, his robes, leaving them in a neat pile outside of the shower. All that remained were his briefs. Vidalia was visibly displeased. 

With a performative sigh, Zeleri took off his briefs. 

“And now...we’re both naked, it seems.” Zeleri said, his voice more stilted than ever. 

Vidalia turned around, and out of courtesy, Zeleri averted his gaze. She turned the knob of the shower, and hot, although not unpleasantly so water poured down from the head. Vidalia adjusted the angle, so the stream ran through both of their knotted black hair. 

Blood and dirt, but ancient and recent, cascaded down from the two Saiyan’s heads. The dark brown streams met on the floor of the shower, swallowed up by the drain. 

Zeleri reached across for the body wash, his hand brushing briefly against Vidalia’s slick, naked shoulder. 

He squirted a small amount of the clear, herb-scented soap into his palm, rubbing his hands sheepishly over his chest, coating it in a layer of suds. 

Zeleri watched Vidala’s eyes, now that they were no longer hidden behind her matted hair. They darted up and down Zeleri’s body, over and over. Zeleri had seen that sort of look before, it was the same way an animal on the hunt would look at its prey. 

Zeleri wasn’t muscular in the same way that most warriors were. Fit would be a better descriptor, he was skinny, and without much bulk, but not scrawny, with broad shoulders and toned arms.

Vidalia, however, had a true warrior’s physique. It wasn’t the sort of form that contemporary warriors built at a gym, which was as much about appearances as it was combat efficiency. Her body was created entirely on the battlefield. Many considered it distasteful and objectifying to put so much focus on a woman’s body, but Zeleri had a different perspective. He was a doctor, and he had learned, through countless hours of studying and work, that one’s body was a window to their soul. One’s personality was a product of their mind, after all, and one’s mind was simply another part of their body. He could see her history in the short scars that peppered her tanned, muscular back, the hard, developed calluses on her hand, her…

Zeleri was jolted out of his observant gaze by an arc of hot water striking him in the chest. He yelped involuntarily. Vidalia removed her hands from the knob and the showerhead, to face Zeleri and chuckle playfully. She turned back to the controls, turning up the heat just a bit more and aiming the stream directly at Zeleri’s chest. 

“Ah, Vidalia, that’s enough,” Zeleri said, as his body slowly adjusted to the scalding water. Vidalia shook her head. 

Vidalia walked around the burning stream, getting behind Zeleri, wrapping her arms tightly around him, hands gradually venturing lower and lower, fingernails carving long, shallow cuts into his skin. Her tail slithered across his upper thigh, before snapping itself around it like a snake. He felt her teeth sink into his shoulder with delicate, loving savagery. He felt heat radiate from her body, the ghost of fierce, unrestrained instinct that he been missing from his species for centuries. 

She was a warrior, and more than that, she was a hunter. What more could he do than allow her to enjoy her prize?

\----

Zeleri donned a new uniform from one of the closets. It was a basic suit, not his preferred style, but it would do while his outfit was in the wash. Vidalia, for the time being, opted to remain nude.

“I’ll bring us back to my lab, and then, my plan can continue,” Zeleri said, glancing briefly at the ship’s autopilot, checking to see if it was still on the correct course. 

Vidalia wandered throughout the ship, fascinated by the various monitors and devices. She knew better than to touch any of them. She simply observed, making notes of patterns of the displayed images whenever they appeared.

Vidalia cocked her head, as a small shape suddenly appeared on the radar. Zeleri scowled. It was a Galactic Patrol ship, judging by the size and shape. There was no reason for it to be in this sector, unless it was specifically looking for him. His vessel was unarmed, and destroying it would only attract more attention. Vidalia noted his frustration, although she did not understand it.

The ship drew closer, and a message began to blare out over the communicators. The voice was shrill, but his tone was direct. 

“Hey, this is Galactic Patrolman Salmo, what is this Sadla Defense Force vessel doing in this sector of space?”

The two Saiyans were silent, as Vidalia could not talk, and Zeleri did not want to. 

“Excuse me? Are your comms working?” the patroller said, tapping his microphone, causing a rather grating scratching noise to come through on the other side. 

The silence persisted.   
“Well, if you refuse to talk, I’ll have no choice but to board your vessel and see what’s going on for myself.”

Zeleri had no choice but to speak up. He wasn’t much of an impressionist, so he simply chose a voice that was entirely different from his own. He took in a deep breath, drying out his mouth and throat, so his voice came out as a low-pitch rasp. It was decently convincing, and he consciously avoided his usual over-annunciation too. 

“Sorry, there seems to be something wrong with my communicator,” he said. “I’m not picking you up clearly.”

“That’s fine,” he replied. “Sometimes the comms do that in deep space. All the more reason for me to come inside so we can talk face-to-face.”

Zeleri sighed. “Fine, prepare to board.”

The parked spaceship opened up its hatch. A small alien creatures with round eyes and blue skin exited the craft, and floated towards Zeleri’s ship in a pressurized suit.

“You should put on some clothes.” Zeleri said, gesturing to his own outfit to make sure she understood. Vidalia nodded, and cycled through the available outfits in the closets. The modern armor didn’t suit her wild and prehistoric sensibilities, but her options were limited. 

A door on Zeleri’s ship opened, and the Galactic Patroller stepped into the airlock. He removed his spacesuit, and adjusted his tights, as they were starting to ride up on him.

The Patroller opened the door to the airlock, and was greeted by the curious, attentive gaze of Vidalia. Zeleri was nowhere to be seen, but his voice could be heard from the nearby side room where he was currently located.

“Hello, officer,” Zeleri said, still trying to mask his voice. His voice was beginning to ache, but that only made his rasp more convincing. 

“You must be the one I talked to on the comms. What’s your name, soldier?”

“Tomat,” Zeleri said, spitting out the first Saiyan-sounding name that came into his head. 

“Tomat, you say? Strange name for a Saiyan. And who are you?”

“Her name is Vidalia,” Zeleri said, as Vidalia was predictably silent. 

“She’s not very talkative at the moment. She’s suffering from a throat infection, the result of inhaling too much of Planet Cellia’s atmosphere without the proper protective gear.”  
Zeleri couldn’t help but insert some of his actual medical knowledge into his lie.

“Right. And I assume based on your voice that you’re suffering from the same condition?”

“Yes. That’s the reason why I can’t talk to you directly right now, my infection is still in the contagious stage, while hers can no longer spread.” Zeleri said. “So, what was it you wanted exactly, officer Salmo?” 

“Well, I’m wondering what a Sadla Defense Force vessel is doing in this part of space.”

“I could say the same thing about you.”

“Well,” Salmo said, striking a dramatic pose, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Vidalia was sniffing the air around him like a curious animal. “I just happen to be looking for the notorious Saiyan fugitive known as Zeleri. Have you heard of him?”

“Who hasn’t,” Zeleri replied. “What makes you think that he’s out here?”

“Process of elimination, basically,” Salmo said. “We’ve checked just about every region of this galaxy, besides the obscure, uncharted ones like here.”

“Well, we happened to be doing the exact same thing,” Zeleri replied. 

Vidalia was apparently satisfied with the amount of Salmo’s scent she had obtained, so she pulled away from him and leaned against the spaceship wall.

“Well, that’s weird,” Salmo said. “Because there are no Sadla Defense Force vehicles in this area of space that haven’t been accounted for, besides yours. You shouldn’t be here.”

“Well, between you and me,” Zeleri said. “Me and my partner snuck out here, with the intention of finding Zeleri before anyone else so we could collect the bounty.”

“Hmm, Salmo said, scratching his chin with his finger. “Well, between you and me, I’m doing the exact same thing. Don’t tell anyone, okay! Or I’ll rat you out too.”

“You have my word.”

“Well, I’ll see you guys around! Good luck on catching that guy. Maybe, you could, you know, split the bounty with me, as a reward for not reporting you? Ah, whatever.”

Salmo put his suit back on, and floated back to his ship. He entered the cockpit, and took a look at the array of multicolored buttons and switches in front of him.

“Now, which one of these turns on the autopilot…” Salmo said. The buttons were all unlabeled, and he only managed to activate the autopilot on his way here out of sheer luck.

He closed his eyes, and placed his finger on the button closest to the area he remembered it being last time. 

A pair of cyan lasers shot from his ship’s side-cannons, smashing into the side of Zeleri’s poorly-armored ship. It struck one of the engines, causing a fiery explosion that sent the ship flying into the orbit of a nearby moon. 

“Shit.”


End file.
